


Finding You

by MrsTomFelton



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsTomFelton/pseuds/MrsTomFelton
Summary: Finding You is post Deathly Hallows with some changes to the Harry Potter world. It starts of during the Battle of Hogwarts, where the greatest witch of her time notices the broken-looking blonde boy as he’s being lured over to the dark side, and she begins questioning her whole life when it came to Draco Malfoy. Most canonical elements have occurred up to the Battle of Hogwarts, with the exceptions of several elements.All characters, settings and magical references belong to J.K Rowling, with the exception of a few characters. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only, and should not be considered canon.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40
Collections: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 - Light and Evil

Harry Potter had his face pressed against the hard and cold ground. The wetness of the forest in his face, the smell of death strong in his nostrils.

His glasses were askew from the impact of the deathly spell, and the way his body had hit the ground. His whole body throbbed with an ache he hadn't quiet felt before, every single inch of him protested in pain. All because of the killing curse that was fired at him, mere moments ago.

He hadn't stirred, hadn't dared to move, as life rushed into every atom of his existence. His glasses pushed into his temple, his arm bent at an awkward angle, his mouth open wide, but he didn't stir, didn't dare to move.

Harry had expected loud cheers and calls of triumphs to be filled in the air.

It was eerily quiet, with his heartbeats thundering in his ears. He heard something then, a hushed conversation with whispers, and he strained his ears to listen.

"My Lord. My Lord".

Bellatrix Lestrange. That was Bellatrix's scratchy voice, like she was almost pleading to a lover.

He wanted to open his eyes. He desperately wanted to know what was going on around him, but he couldn't, he shouldn't, not now. So, he concentrated, and allowed his other senses to explore around him.

He could feel his wand pressed against his chest. He could feel the soft cushioning-feeling of his cloak against his stomach. This eased the panic slowly rising at the back of his mind.

He heard hurried steps. More hushed whispers. And, then Bellatrix was pleading again.

Curiosity won over, and he opened his eyes slightly, only to see Voldemort getting to his feet. He closed eyes instantly, thinking what could have happened in the few seconds that had passed.

It appeared Voldemort has fallen to the ground, just like he had. It also appeared the killing curse shot by his wand had also impacted him in return. Did that mean, Voldemort also had briefly fallen unconscious and regained, just like he had. So, did that mean ...

"The boy" Voldemort said in his hissing voice. "The boy, is he dead?"

Harry felt every single gaze upon him now, as if they could assess him from that distance, but no one dared to approach him, and this he was grateful for.

There was a loud bang. A woman shrieked.

"Examine him!" Voldemort ordered. "Tell me whether he is dead".

He heard slow approaching steps, timid on the ground where he lay. Soft hands were on his body, softer than what he had anticipated. They crept up his shirt, feeling the loud pounding against his ribcage, and lingered there for a few seconds. He could feel her laboured breath against his ear, her long hair on his face, he still didn't dare to move.

"Is Draco alive?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Is he in the castle?"

Her questions were barely audible, but he could tell who it was. He moved his head slowly, her long and cascading her concealing his subtle movements.

And then the hair was gone. The heat on his body was gone. Harry heard Narcissa Malfoy stand to her feet.

She turned around and said in a breathy voice, "He's dead".

Now they yelled, cheered and shouted, celebrating Harry's death as he lay there on the ground. He felt than heard the stomping of their feet, and behind his tightly shut eyelids he saw the bright sparks of the spells they shot into the air.

Harry understood something then.

He finally understood.

All Narcissa Malfoy had cared about was her one and only son, Draco Malfoy. She didn't care about some stupid war, or Voldemort's views on half-bloods and Mudbloods. All she ever wanted was to keep her son safe. And seeing as he was fighting with those up in the castle, she knew the only way she could get back into Hogwarts, and to her son, was to declare Harry's death. Although she had her own motives, Harry was glad she had lied to Voldemort.

He knew he wasn't going to be left in peace, presumably dead to everyone but Narcissa Malfoy. They humiliated his body, hitting him with Crucio after Crucio, and lifting his body into the air only to drop it back to the ground.

He wondered how long this was going to last, before Voldemort finally spoke.

"Now we go to the castle and show them what has become of their hero".

Loud cheers and yells.

"Who shall drag his body?" Harry could sense amusement in Voldemort's voice. "You –"

Raucous laughter sounded in the air as Voldemort pointed at someone.

"He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid".

Hagrid's heavy footfalls approached him, and he softly picked him up. He was trembling with the force of his sobs, warm and big tears splashing on Harry's face and chest. As much as it tore him apart with each tremble and devasted sob of Hagrid, he couldn't let him know he as okay. He couldn't risk it.

Hagrid began to walk. Harry lay limp in his arms, wondering how many animals and creatures of the forest were witnessing his death procession. The Death Eaters shouted crude insults back at them.

As a bright light appeared behind his closed eyelids, he knew they were on the edge of the forest and heading closer and closer to the school.

Hagrid continued to cry, even when they reached the school, and then he was magically forced to stop.

\---

Hermione Granger wiped the sweat off her brow, turning around to hide the gag that was permanently lodged in her throat for the past hour. With each new dead body Oliver Wood, Dean Thomas and Lee Jordan bought into the Great Hall, the stronger the smell of death and blood had gotten.

Almost automatically, she glanced over to where the still forms of Remus and Tonks lay, their faces ghost-white, their hands barely touching, and their eyes wide open. More than once Hermione wanted to walk over to them to close their eyes, but she couldn't. She was afraid the closer she got, the more likely she was to break down, and the last thing she needed was to lose her composure, especially when people needed her to heal them.

Something flashed in her peripheral, and she jerked her eyes off Remus and Tonks to find a blonde head of hair. She could never forget that blonde head, no matter how much she tried to.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

He was making his way to the back of the Great Hall, keeping to the outskirts of the crowd, almost like he didn't want to be seen.

But that was part of the problem for Hermione. No matter how much she tried, her eyes always sought him out.

Her mouth became dry as she lost him in the crowd. She hadn't seen him since her, Harry and Ron were at the Malfoy Manor, and he stood there watching her –

"Miss Granger."

Madam Pomfrey was making her way towards Hermione, frowns of worry etched into her face.

The last person Hermione expected to see here was a Malfoy, especially the youngest one.

He had always been a pain during his Hogwarts years, more than just a pain during their sixth year, and then his actions, or should she say lack of, at Malfoy Manor – what was he doing here, then? How did he get into the Great Hall without anyone noticing him? Why was there no commotion that a Death Eater was in their midst, albeit it being a student? Why was he even here? What was he doing on their side of the fight?

Maybe ... Hermione shook her head. No, she thought, she couldn't allow herself to meander down that dangerous path again.

Well, Harry did say Draco was lowering his wand the day Dumbledore died. So, maybe ... her heart skipped a beat.

Hermione Granger was always known to be the optimistic out of the Golden Trio. She managed to find positivity in anything and anyone, especially if it was Draco Malfoy.

So what if Draco-

"There are several people over there-" Madam Pomfrey continued, not noticing the younger witch's glazed look. The rest of her sentence was drowned out by a loud hissing which could only belong to one person – Voldemort.

He demanded for everyone to leave the castle. As she looked around, it appeared people were making their way out of the Great Hall and into the courtyard. She could see Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn leading the way out, closely followed by Kingsley Shacklebot and the Weasley family.

Ron glanced in her direction, she nodded and followed suit, a thick dread filling up her body with each heavy step she took.

A warm hand was on her back, strangely reassuring her. Hermione felt him before she heard him, something she had experienced several times in the past. He whispered in her ear, his deep voice barely above a whisper, only for her to hear.

"No matter what happens here, Granger, I will not let anything happen to you. Meet me by the alcove if all hell breaks loose."

And just like that Draco Malfoy was gone, taking his warmth and reassuring touch along with him.

She blinked.

Once, twice, before she turned her head to look around for him, to catch another glimpse of his blonde hair. But Draco had vanished, just as quickly as he had appeared. Hermione almost thought she had imagined his deep voice by her ear, or his breath on the side of head. She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her lower back, like it hand branded her.

Moments later she was in the courtyard, with Ron beside her.

If she thought the smell of death inside the Great Hall was bad, out in the courtyard was unbearably suffocating.

Death and destruction surrounded them. Their beloved school, home to many, which stood proud and tall, broken and burning behind them. Their friends and family wounded around them. But the bright sparks of spells shooting in the dawn sky, caught their attention.

Hermione felt like someone was staring at her, she could feel their burning gaze on her. She looked to her right and saw no one besides Ron, to her left was the Weasley family – everyone was looking straight ahead. Yet, she could still feel the tingling on her.

Hermione was about to turn around when Ron nudged her. "Look" he said, pointing ahead.

Moments later Hagrid's large frame appeared from the tree line, a mass of Death Eaters following him.

She squinted her eyes. Hagrid was holding something, or someone, she couldn't tell from this distance.

When the darkness arrived, they gathered on the other side of the courtyard. Voldemort pushed past Hagrid and several Death Eaters, his pace languid and slow. He approached the people gathered outside the school, some still clutching to their wounds and broken limbs; students, professors, and family members alike.

"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort cheered; his voice magnified so it could be heard in every corner of the school.

His hissing voice was rattling inside her brain – dead, dead, dead.

"We bring the body as proof that your hero is gone!"

Hermione's eyes flickered over to Hagrid's hands, and she forgot how to breathe.

Right there, in Hagrid's arms was a limp Harry.

Professor McGonagall's scream mingled with Ginny's ear-splitting one, both equally full of pain and anguish.

Hermione knew how hard she had tried to keep herself, Harry and Ron together and safe this past year. How could she not have realised when Harry had disappeared so suddenly?

They were together when they returned from the Shrieking Shack. Harry had Snape's memories in a vial. They had entered the Great Hall, and all she saw was people dying, under-age students bleeding with deep gashes, groans and cries for help. She forgot about herself, about Ron, about Harry, and started healing those in need.

But dead? Harry Potter dead?

Hermione had never thought of this possibility in her nightmares. How could Harry be dead? How was that possible? There was no way Harry had sacrificed himself after everything.

Yet, there was Harry's limp body in Hagrid's arm, his face pushed against Hagrid's chest, who was sobbing and trembling.

Voldemort ordered Hagrid to lay Harry's body at his feet, wanting to relish his death in front of all the people who had believed, loved, and fought for Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

"Draco" Lucius called out to his son.

Hermione looked over at the blonde boy, thinking about what he had said to her.

Hermione remembered how she couldn't stand Draco Malfoy during her first two years of Hogwarts. But even Hermione Granger couldn't understand or comprehend that there was something about him, something that kept her eyes glancing over at him, something that kept drawing her close to him.

Seeing the snobby and young Malfoy scared for her when she woke up from being petrified, somewhat changed her impression of him. And, she knew it was that moment she began seeing him in a different light, even if he still called her Mudblood in front of others. For the next three years, she considered him as a friend, and at times, entertained the possibility of him being something more.

Until, he relished in the power Umbridge had given to him, and their strange and secretive relationship came to a hurtful end.

The last two years saw Hermione avoiding anything to do with Draco Malfoy. She wanted to forget him. Forget all the memories she began to cherish. She ignored every time Harry spoke about him. Out of her anger and hurt, the logical part of her brain did not want to hear his name anymore. Hermione Granger wanted to look at Draco Malfoy like one would look at a stranger.

But now ...

Draco looked different. He looked torn and forlorn, like he was on the verge of breaking down. His composure was stiff, his breathing deep and controlled, but she noticed his hands, clenched into tight fists, trembling slightly by his side.

Hermione's heart clenched in her chest, not at all feeling guilty that Ron was standing beside her. Ron, who she had shared her second kiss with, what seemed like moments ago.

She always had a soft spot for Draco however, an emotion he never deserved from her.

"Draco!" Lucius repeated his son's name, raising his arm and beckoning him over, to the side of evil.

And then it clicked.

Hermione realised something.

She realised something profound.

Draco was on the side of light. He had been in the Great Hall with the survivors because he had been fighting on the side of the light. On their side, on Harry's side, on her side. For the first time, he was on her side and not against her.

Hermione saw Draco falter. He hesitated, like he wasn't sure what to do, wasn't sure of where he belonged.

Draco's eyes were searching for something, maybe desperately looking for reason. Or, someone, Hermione thought, someone who could his hand, tell it would be okay if he stayed.

Her fingers twitched beside her. She drew in a deep breath and willed her legs to move –

"Draco" a softer, caressing voice called out.

Hermione stopped. She looked over at Narcissa Malfoy, the only person who had truly and immensely loved Draco, despite of everything he had done.

Draco's ocean blue eyes flickered over to his mother.

Narcissa raised her hand, her face soft with motherly concern. She pleaded her beautiful boy, silently.

Hermione saw the bop of Draco's Adam apple as he struggled to swallow. His eyes darted towards Hermione, probably for the last time, before he bowed his head and slowly made his way over to his mother. She watched in silence as Draco walked away from the light, towards evil.

Before he could reach Narcissa, Voldemort stepped in Draco's path. With a sinister sneer, he awkwardly embraced him, his serpentine eyes on Harry's body. Everyone noticed Draco's stiff body, his head hung low, his arms by his side.

Just watching the exchange between Draco and Voldemort exploded questions in Hermione's over-working brain.

What if she had given up too soon on him? What if she also failed to understand him, like everyone else had? She considered herself lucky to catch some glimpses of his personality when they were away from everyone, what if she had held on only a little longer? What if she had pushed him away, just as much as he had pulled away? What if those memories they had shared, hidden in the restriction section of the library, was the real Draco Malfoy, and not the arrogant, prejudiced, loathsome prat he portrayed for everyone to believe?

A loud roar erupted from the forest, snapping everyone's head in that direction. Grawp ran out, centaurs, hipogriffs, thestrals and other creatures of the forest following him, their roars as loud, their feet and hooves shaking the ground.

Hermione could feel it in her bones, even with Harry gone, no one was going to back down without a fight. This wasn't going to end here.

The next few moments occurred too quickly for Hermione's shrewd eyes.

Neville Longbottom ran out from their side, in one hand the Sorting Hat.

With everyone momentarily distracted by the fast approaching crowd from the forest, Neville pulled out Gryffindor's sword from the depths of the hat. She felt someone cast an invisible but powerful Shielding Charm between Neville and Voldemort. Hermione had no idea who.

She was about to glance around the courtyard, trying to catch who had their wand pointed in Neville's direction, when he, in one swooping motion, sliced Nagini's head, clean off. Hermione watched with wide eyes as the snake's head bounced on the floor, before landing with a silent thud.

She saw Voldemort open his mouth. His agonising scream was lost during the thunderous steps and loud roars. His slit like eyes landed dangerously onto Neville, his wand arm rising quickly.

It was a good thing the shield was in place, Hermione thought.

"Where's Harry?" Hagrid shouted.

Hermione glanced at the spot where Hagrid had slowly placed her best friend's body. Harry wasn't there. She blinked, and there he was, standing a few feet away. He looked a little dishevelled, but very much alive.

In the next blink of an eye, Draco ran forward.

"Potter!" he shouted, throwing his own wand at Harry.

Another blink of an eye, Voldemort fired a spell in Harry's direction.

He dodged it, and ran behind a pillar.

As Voldemort chased Harry down, the Death Eaters raised their wands at the students and professors.

Ron shoved Hermione into an alcove as a hex singed the ends of her hair. She breathed in deep, feeling the stone wall shaking under the hexes and spells that were fired in her direction.

Against her better judgement, she peeked her head out to look over the courtyard. Her eyes searching for a blonde head of hair, like it was a beacon to her.

Hermione's heart missed a beat, and it wasn't from the spells that were still being directed in her direction. She saw him. She saw Draco.

He had his back towards her, his head hung low in defeat and shame. With his left hand clutched tightly in Narcissa's, they were making their way across the bridge. Draco was walking away from the fight. He was walking away from the school.

She could only watch in silence as Draco walked away from everything and everyone.

As he walked away from her.

Hermione forgot about the war around her.

She focused on the ache in her chest, which doubled in intensity the moment Draco disapparated right in front of her.

Hermione closed her eyes. She retreated into the alcove, clutching her chest – the very same alcove Draco had asked her to wait for him.

She just needed a moment to regain her composure, so she could join the fight with a clear head.

And, Hermione Granger needed a moment to entertain the thought that she may never see Draco Malfoy ever again.

A/N: I've decided to come back to writing again, but this time with a Dramione fanfic.

Please let me know what you guys think of it. If people like it, i'll work on the next chapter, if not i'll take my time to upload the next.

See you at Hogwarts x


	2. Chapter 2 - The War isn't Over

CHAPTER 2 – The war isn’t over.

The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts.

The big windows of the Great Hall suddenly blazing with life and light, touching and dazzling everyone in its reach.

After being pushed and pulled in every possible direction, everyone just wanted to pass on their congratulations to the Golden Trio. Every appropriate inch of their skin, every part of their body was touched, just so people could show their appreciation.

It wasn’t as bad as Harry’s ordeal, Hermione thought. She looked up at her dear friend, surrounded with hundreds and hundreds of people.

She had excused herself from the crowd fairly quickly, feeling claustrophobic with all the attention. Luckily, the crowd that was interested in Hermione Granger died down quicker than the crowd who was interested in Harry Potter. All she wanted was a moment to herself. A moment where she could collect her conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Hermione felt happy and sad. She felt like celebrating and mourning. She wanted to leave and stay, all at the same time. She found herself clasping and shaking hands, smiling brightly at hearty congratulations and pats of ‘well done’ on the back. She paid her condolences for the deceased ones, offered their families comfort when they cried with joy and sadness. All the same time, Hermione felt like she had lost something, deep within her.

Hermione needed something to do, she needed something to take her mind of … him.

She helped move the bodies of Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks and Colin Creevey with utmost care, amongst fifty others who had died during the fight. She saw Headmistress McGonagall levitate Voldemort’s corpse, seeing as no one else wanted to be anywhere near him. Even dead, he still held the power to frighten people. His body was moved to a secluded chamber off the Great Hall, and she heard whispered conversations of the professors burning it when everyone had left Hogwarts.

Hermione helped to rearrange the tables, although no one was bothering with houses currently. She looked over the Great Hall to see people jumbled together, regardless of houses, having avid conversations. From the corner of her eye she saw Lee Jordan making his way towards her.

“Congrats, ‘Mione” he said, awkwardly patting her on the back – she always hated that nick name. “Ron was looking for you.”

“Oh” she said, not too sure on what to do next.

“He’s over there” Lee pointed. With a nod of appreciation, he walked away.

Ron was sitting on his own on one of the benches. As their eyes met, Hermione’s stomach tied up in knots. He waved her over, a soft smile on his face.

She ought to say something to him, right, she thought. She ought to start a conversation about how she was suddenly feeling. Even though, Hermione herself had no idea how she was exactly feeling.

Hermione sat next to Ron, maintaining a safe distance.

She ignored when he shuffled closer to her and said, “We did it.”

Ron placed his hand on her knee, smiling happily to himself. Hermione felt herself grow stiff under his touch; her hands suddenly felt clammy with sweat.

Ron laughed, and said, “Blimey! I didn’t doubt Harry for a second, y’know? But we actually did it.”

She offered him a small smile; it would be rude not to. But she couldn’t glance away from the way his hand looked weird on her knee, almost like it didn’t belong there.

Hermione felt uneasy with the contact, but she knew she shouldn’t be. They had kissed hours ago. She was pining for his affection months ago, when they were searching for the horcruxes. So what changed? Why did she suddenly feel uncomfortable around him?

He silently watched the people around him, clueless to the mental war Hermione was having besides him.

She cleared her throat. Here goes nothing, she thought. “Ron-”

“It’s me” Harry muttered.

They both turned around, no one was there.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak.

She glanced at Ron before the both of them stood up. Harry reached forward and grabbed her hand. He led her out of the Great Hall, with Ron following them. She noticed great chunks missing from the marble staircase, parts of the balustrade were gone, too. Rubble and blood stained every step they took, and she blinked focusing on where Harry should be if it wasn’t for the cloak.

In the distance she could hear Peeves singing.

We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter’s the One. And, Voldy’s gone mouldy, so now let’s have fun!

Hermione didn’t feel like having fun.

“Really gives the feeling for the scope and tragedy of the thing, doesn’t it?” Ron asked, pushing open a door for Hermione and Harry to walk through.

When would happiness come to her? When would she not feel the pain of everyone that had died today? When will she not feel the loss with every step she took? When would she stop seeing mirages of his back, walking away from her, and dissapparating into nothingness?

Harry spoke then, chasing Hermione’s dark thoughts away. He spoke about what he had seen in the Penseive, of Snape’s memories. He spoke about what happened in the forest, and then he suddenly stopped.

She was so invested by what he was saying, so enthralled by what she was hearing, she didn’t realise she was standing in the same spot he had dissaparated.  
Harry pulled off his cloak and walked a little ahead of them. Ron stood beside her, both watching their friend.

Harry climbed on a stone. He thoughtfully looked over the grounds of Hogwarts, some patches of grass still burning. She saw him sigh deeply, looking down at the Elder Wand, twisting it around his fingers.

“Why didn’t it work for him?” Hermione asked. “The Elder Wand?”

“It answered to somebody else” Harry said, turning towards her. “When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. But the thing is … the wand never belonged to Snape.”

“Who did it belong to?” she asked.

Harry took another deep breath, “it was Draco who disarmed Dumbledore that night in the Astronomy Tower.”

Draco, she thought, his name barely a whisper in her mind. She was avoiding saying his name, she was avoiding hearing his name, she was avoiding thinking his name. But with Harry saying it out loud, her heart clenched in pain.

“From that moment on,” Harry continued, “the wand answered him. Until the other night when I disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor.”

“So that means …” Ron said.

Hermione looked back at him, seeing surprise mirroring his features.

Harry nodded. He raised the wand, “It’s mine.”

“What should we do with it?” Ron asked.

She felt appalled at his question, and she turned around to tell him just that. “We?” she asked, daring Ron to change what he just said.

“I’m just saying” he shrugged. “That’s the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand in the world. With that, you’ll be invincible.”

Hermione shook her head in disgust. She turned around to see Harry thoughtfully looking at the wand again. She could tell Harry was considering Ron’s words, and she opened her mouth to be the voice of logic.

Harry beat her to it.

He reached up with his left hand and snapped the wand in two. Harry threw both ends over the edge of the bridge, not an ounce of hesitation on his face.  
Hermione rushed forward to where Harry was standing. She watched the two pieces hurtle to the ground.

And that was that.

The moral compass had finally been straightened.

The next few minutes they stood in silence, the Golden Trio looking over at their beloved school.

They thought of everything they’ve done in that school, all the things they’ve achieved, individually and together.

Hermione thought about the amount of times she could have died, or worse, been expelled. Regardless of the notion, regardless of what happened, regardless of what she lost today, she knew she would never change the day she met Harry Potter and Ron Weasley on the Hogwarts Express, all those years ago.

\---

A private party for mourning and celebration was organised back at the Burrow, strictly for family and friends. As everyone gathered in the courtyard to apparate to the Burrow, Hermione lingered in the shadows.

Harry was the first to notice she wasn’t with the group. He approached her, “You not coming?”

She looked over her shoulder at the entrance of the school, and then back at the courtyard where the Weasleys were gathered. Ron still hadn’t noticed she had quietly slipped away.

There was still so much to do at Hogwarts, Hermione had realised.

The courtyard needed clearing. The rubble needed to be assessed and stored away safely, to be examined later, on which stones could be re-used. There were gaping holes at the side of the Gryffindor and Astronomy Tower, which needed to be urgently fixed. There were several roofs that had fallen through. Bodies of dead Death Eaters still remained littered inside and outside the school. There were still students who needed help gathering their belongings, packing and sending home safely.

As much as she adored being at the school and helping, that wasn’t the main reason Hermione wanted to stay.

Away from observing eyes, in the crook and crannies, in the restricted section of the library, in the hidden stairwell and passageways, they all housed memories of Draco Malfoy. He may not be here right now, but those memories still felt very much alive and thriving, like they were made just this morning. He may not have said goodbye to her, but she couldn’t walk away without saying goodbye to them.

So, Hermione turned towards Harry and decided to reply with a half-truth. “I want to stay a little longer.”

He frowned.

“There’s still so much to do, Harry” Hermione rushed out. “The professors need someone to stay back and offer a helping hand. I swear, once all the students have packed and left the school, I’ll head over to the Burrow as soon as.”

“I understand, Hermione, I do. I just thought – you’d want some rest” Harry joked.

“Yes, of course. But, Harry-”

“It’s okay, Hermione” Harry cut in. “You stay as long as you need to.”

As Harry whispered something in Ron’s ear, Hermione had a feeling her best friend understood more than he had let on.

\---

Hours after the last student had packed and was sent home, the sun had finally set, and the sky was glistening with stars again.

Headmistress McGonagall marched a quiet and thoughtful Hermione Granger to the front gates of Hogwarts.

She had observed how the younger witch had lingered behind, when the rest of the Weasleys and Harry left for a moment of privacy. They wanted to be alone to mourn Fred’s death, as well as celebrating Harry’s victory. At first the Headmistress had assumed Hermione had volunteered to stay behind, to offer a helping hand with students. But, when there was no help left, Hermione was still at the school.

Hermione Granger had such a big hand in their victory, her title of being The Greatest Witch of Their Time was well deserved. So, why did she look so lost? 

Headmistress McGonagall had taken it upon herself to walk Hermione towards the gates and offer her some advice.

“You should join the celebrations at the Burrow, Miss Granger. I’m sure the three of you have plenty to talk about.”

Hermione looked up at her. “I don’t feel like celebrating when there’s so much to do.”

“Miss Granger, the least you can do is get some rest, you’ve had a hectic year. It’s been an eventful day, to say the least, you must be tired.”

“But the school-”

“The school will always be here, Miss Granger.”

Hermione silently stared back.

“If it stood tall and proud after today, it surely will stand tall and proud for years and years to come” Headmistress McGonagall added.

She didn’t want to leave.

As reassuring as the Headmistress’ words were, Hermione always had a purpose at this school, from studying, to exams – she knew what she wanted behind these ancient walls. But, outside these walls, and everything was a confused mess.

Who was Hermione Granger outside of Hogwarts?

For once, in her entire life, Hermione had no idea what to do.

“What’s going to happen to Hogwarts?” she asked, looking back at the school.

Headmistress McGonagall followed suit, stars winkling in her glasses. “The rebuilding process starts tomorrow. Take this,” she reached out and placed something covered in a cloth in Hermione’s hand. “And it’ll be shut off to students until its restored to its previous glory.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow, then.”

“Miss Granger-”

“I can’t seem to say goodbye, yet, Professor, please don’t make me say goodbye.”

“Hermione-”

“It’s not only just that. There’s just something … magical about having my name written in history, especially when people remember when Hogwarts was rebuilt.”

“I assure you Miss Granger, your name will be mentioned in many things, and not just for the rebuilding of Hogwarts. That portkey will take you straight to the Burrow.”

Hermione watched the older witch leave, her dark cloak swishing behind her.

Hermione suddenly felt like she was forgetting something. A niggling feeling at the back of her mind like she had forgotten something to do, or something that had happened, hours and hours ago – maybe even before the battle. But as soon as the thought had arrived, it fluttered away just as quickly.

Her eyes found the school again, and she realised she was afraid. Less afraid when Voldemort was still alive with an army of Death Eaters and she was being hunted for being Harry’s friend, but afraid regardless.

Hermione was afraid of her thoughts.

She couldn’t quite understand just yet why her feelings had changed so drastically. She hadn’t seen Draco in two years. Yet, the moment she laid her eyes on him in the Great Hall, her feelings came rushing back. Hermione thought she had moved on. She made sure she had closed the chapter of Draco Malfoy.

So, what happened? Why was she feeling the way she was?

Hermione had read enough books on the history of war to know a deadly silence followed, once it was over. Some were able to adapt to the silence, live their life even, much like Harry. Others were driven insane, as they only had one purpose, like her.

Hermione knew her conflicting thoughts were going to drive her insane in this deafening silence.

So, what was she going to do about it?

Hermione Granger was going to find a distraction. Comprehending and rationalising her feelings for Draco … she couldn’t finish the sentence of. She needed a distraction. It was a simple as that.

And there it was – her distraction.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She carefully removed the cloth to see a bright gold coin resting in her palm. Headmistress McGonagall had given her a portkey.

Why?

She was more than capable of apparating to the Burrow. Hermione thought, maybe the Headmistress didn’t trust Hermione to head straight there, like she had somewhere else to be. Maybe the Headmistress could sense the internal war occurring, and decided a portkey was the better option.

Hermione took a deep breath. As she touched the coin and felt her body shifting. She realised the war was far from over for her.

Her foot hit the gravel. She heard loud music first. Then cheering and laughter. Hermione quietly let herself into the kitchen, wanting to avoid the merriment.

She had only stepped into the kitchen when -

“’Mione!”

She froze. The door swung shut behind her as a flash of red rushed towards her. Ron’s arms were around her in the next second. Hermione could smell alcohol on his breath.

He pulled away, his arms still hanging loosely around her slim frame. “You look so beautiful tonight” he smiled; his eyes dazed.

Hermione was still in the same clothes from last night. She had dirt on her face and hands, and her hair was matted with blood – Ron was definitely drunk. She stepped away, walking around him.

“’Mione?”

“I’m going to grab a shower” she said over shoulder, not waiting for his reply.

She stood under the spray of the warm water for a whole hour before she decided she should show her face at the party. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to think she didn’t want to be a part of their celebrations and mourning. She wrapped a towel around her before entering the room she usually shared with Ginny.

An unwanted guest was already in the room.

Ron turned on the spot at hearing the click of the bathroom door. His eyes dropped down to her bare feet, agonisingly slowly travelling up her body. She felt her skin cringe in dismay. His eyes finally stopped their assessment when they landed on her paled face. Hermione stood there, fidgeting with the towel. She subtly tried to pull it tighter around her, wishing she had gone for something covering.

With each passing second, Ron’s eyes grew a shade darker.

Hermione noted, if Draco hadn’t suddenly returned into her life, then maybe she would have different at this moment, especially at the way Ron was looking at her. Every pore of him screamed longing and affection. Maybe, Hermione thought, maybe she would’ve even liked the attention Ron was giving to the naked skin on her neck, or the way his eyes moved with the water droplets sliding down her bare arm.

But she didn’t feel anything. Besides feeling uncomfortable under his heady gaze.

She couldn’t muster anything romantic towards Ron.

And that was the problem.

Ron blinked. He shook his head like he was caught in a daze, or a trance of some sort. He stumbled forward, reaching for Hermione’s hand.

She watched her hand closely in his, again with the strong feeling that it didn’t belong there.

“I didn’t doubt it for a second that Harry could do it, but I still can’t believe its all over” Ron said.

“I know” she sighed, still watching her hand in his. “You said that earlier.” Inwardly she cringed at her cold tone.

Why was she being so horrible towards him? He was still her friend, after all. And, besides, it wasn’t Ron’s fault that Hermione’s feeling had changed.

No. The was all her doing.

Ron stepped closer.

She looked up at him, feeling his warm breath on the top of her head.

“I’m looking forward to all of our tomorrows.”

Before Hermione could reply, Ron had taken the final step towards her, and smashed their lips together.

She froze.

Hermione’s eyes were wide open. Ron’s eyes were tightly shut. Her mouth was still and unresponsive. His was moving slowly, trying to coax a reaction out of her.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t like this one bit.

Hermione felt Ron’s excitement prodding at her hip, and a gag poured out of her mouth and into his. She had her hands raised to push him away, when someone knocked sharply on the door. Ron pulled away just as Harry walked in.

He looked towards them, standing by the bathroom door. She was in a towel; he had his arms around her. Ron looked flushed, Hermione looked pale and horrified. Harry noted, both of their lips were pink.

Harry cleared his throat, looking physically uncomfortable – that made the two of them, thought Hermione. “You’re wanted downstairs, Ron.”

Hermione desperately wanted to catch Harry’s eyes as he was about to turn and leave. It appeared he was going to wait for Ron in the hallway. Suddenly he glanced up at Hermione like he had sensed something. She mentally told him not to leave her alone with Ron. She wasn’t sure if he understood, until he frowned but remained in the room.

Ron noticed Harry wasn’t going to leave without him. He tightened his hold on Hermione for a few seconds before leaving the room. Harry shot her another confused frown but didn’t say anything. He stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, Hermione summoned her clothes and threw them on. She didn’t want Ron making his way back upstairs. She dried her hair with a quick spell as she ran down the stairs. She took a few deep breaths to control her erratic breathing before entering the room.

Hermione quickly located a quiet corner, grabbing a butter beer, with no intention to drink it. She made herself comfortable, watching everyone laughing and joking, drinking and dancing, being merry and festive.

She didn’t feel merry. She didn’t feel festive, either. She didn’t feel like celebrating. She didn’t feel like laughing or dancing.

It wasn’t that Hermione wasn’t happy that they had won. She was. She was more than happy. Hermione was glad she didn’t have to run anymore. She was glad no one was going to hunt her down cause of her blood status.

And, mostly, she was happy for Harry. He could finally breathe. He finally had some peace. He didn’t have to worry about his scar connecting him to Voldemort, or horcruxes, or the deathly hallows. He was finally free for the first time in seven years.

Her eyes sought him out. Harry was fast asleep in another quiet corner, his head resting on Ginny’s shoulder. The younger switch smiled at her, raising her butter beer in silent cheer. Hermione followed suit, but didn’t raise the bottle to her lips.

Hermione still felt … lost.

She felt like she had lost something important along the way. What she had lost, and when, Hermione knew exactly what, but she didn’t want to think anymore. Hermione had done enough thinking to last her a lifetime.

“That’s probably warm by now” Molly Weasley said, taking a seat next to Hermione. She plucked the warm butter beer from her hands and handed her a cold bottle.

Hermione raised the bottle to her lips out of courtesy. “Thank you, Mrs Weasley.”

Mrs Weasley shook her head at her. “You should call me Mum.”

Hermione frowned.

Mrs Weasley nodded and pointed to where Ron was dancing by himself. “Now that everything is over, the of you can take your relationship to the next level.”

Her face dropped.

Mrs Weasley didn’t notice and continued, “To make it official in front friends and family. Aww, it would be great – a beautiful wedding after all this doom and gloom.”  
Hermione looked up at Mrs Weasley with pure horror.

Hermione had recently realised she didn’t feel anything for Ron, and she probably never did. She couldn’t think of Draco without remembering the last time she had seen him, how he had walked away from everything, and disapparated into nothing. Every time she thought she would never see him again, her heart clenched in pain.  
Hermione would rationalise her feelings for Draco, comprehend what her next move was going to be, and then speak to Ron about how she was feeling. But taking their relationship to the next level? Making it official in front of friends and family? A wedding?!

Why was nothing ever simple for Hermione.

She felt like she could never catch her breath before another obstacle appeared. Hermione thought she had enough time now to get used to everything. She knew she could get used to the pain. She knew time would heal her broken heart. All she needed was time – it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours!

“I’ll be your mum at some point, right? I mean, you and Ron are planning on getting married, right? I could just imagine little versions of the both of you, running around the Burrow.”

Her fingers twitched making the butter beer rattle in her hands.

Molly Weasley was joking, right? Surely, she wasn’t serious. She had to be joking, Hermione thought. She was probably drunk and had no idea what she was saying. Upon looking at the older witch, Hermione noted, sure there was a slight haziness to her, but the glint of happiness in her eyes, Hermione knew she was serious.

Mrs Weasley looked down at Hermione’s hands, noticing the shaking. She noticed the sheer horror on her face and realised she had said too much. Plucking the bottle out of her trembling hands, she did her best to reassure the frightened younger witch.

Hermione heard her say not to worry, there was enough time, these things aren’t best rushed, they had plenty of time, but she couldn’t register anything. Her breath came out in small bursts, and she needed air. Right now.

She muttered a mumbled apology and rushed out of the room, through the kitchen, and out into garden. Hermione spent the rest of the evening there, away from everyone else.

\---

“Why can’t Hermione sleep in Ron’s room tonight?” Ginny asked.

Hermione’s hand stilled, the toothbrush still sticking out of her mouth. She knew she wasn’t supposed to hear the conversation between Ginny and Mrs Weasley, but she crept slowly over to the door, and placed her ear against it.

“Because I’m not changing beddings anymore. I’ve done enough of that already with all the people we have staying over.”

“But mum-”

“Ginny! Enough. We stick with how things have always been.”

She heard a door shutting and assumed Mrs Weasley had left.

Later, darkness surrounded Hermione as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling above her.

“Hermione, are you awake?” Ginny whispered.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Hermione smiled to herself. Ginny was going to ask regardless of what Hermione said. She rolled over, facing the younger witch, “Of course.”

“Is there something going on with you and my brother?”

Hermione looked up to where she knew where Ginny was, even though she could only make out an outline in the dark “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to control her voice.

“I mean, have the two of you had a fight?”

“No.”

“I know how stupid my brother can be. If he has said anything to upset you, you will tell me?”

“There’s nothing of that sort, Ginny.”

“Then why didn’t you want to spend time with him?”

Hermione sighed, deciding what the best way was to answer that question. She rolled onto her back, staring back the ceiling. “I’ve spent every second of every day with Ron for the past year.”

Ginny laughed. “But I haven’t seen Harry in over a year.”

Hermione sensed the sadness in her voice. She heard movement and then saw Ginny’s dark outline by the door.

“You don’t mind if I go to see him, do you?” Ginny asked.

Again, Ginny was going to do whatever she wanted regardless of what Hermione said. “I don’t mind at all.”

Ginny was out of the room in seconds. Hermione sat up in bed, reaching for the Sleeping Draught potion. She had taken it from the Weasley’s stash of potions, just in case her thoughts became unbearable in the silence of the night.

But Hermione was tired of thinking. She was tired of feeling so lost. But mostly, she didn’t want to dream of ocean blue eyes, blonde hair, and the back of him as he walked away.

She removed the topper and downed the potion in one go.

\---

The next morning Hermione was up and ready before the sun had fully risen. She glanced over at Ginny’s bed as she was about to leave the bedroom, and noticed it was untouched. Ginny must’ve spent the night with Harry, and the thought brought a smile to Hermione’s face. Although she only had a few hours of sleep, thanks to the Sleeping Draught she felt well rested and ready to tackle the day.

Hermione grabbed herself an apple of the dining table, quickly scribbled a note letting everyone know of her whereabouts. She placed the note next to the fruit bowl and apparated with a muffled pop.

Headmistress McGonagall was in the courtyard, assessing the hole in Gryffindor Tower when she heard the iron gates behind her. She turned to see none other than Hermione Granger walking in, a half-eaten apple in her hand. Her eyes remained on her until the younger witch was within talking distance.

“It was foolish of me to hope I wouldn’t be seeing you today, Miss Granger.”

Hermione smiled, “I did say I would be here, Professor.”

“Did you even get some rest?”

“Yes, Professor. I took a Sleeping Draught potion before bed, and I feel well rested.”

Headmistress McGonagall watched Hermione with scrutinising eyes. Although she appeared to be physically well rested, she couldn’t say much about her thoughts and emotions. “Very well” she said instead. “In that case, I leave the library’s responsibility to you. No one knows the library like you do, Miss Granger.”

“I’d be more than happy to help fix the library up.”

The witches walked to the bottom of the grand staircase.

“You’ll have to log what’s missing, damaged, and what needs replacing” Headmistress McGonagall added. “I’ll see you at lunch, Miss Granger” and with that she disappeared down the corridor.

Hermione decided there was something she wanted to do before she headed to the library. She squared her shoulders and headed for the Great Hall.

Someone has cleared the rubble and blood stains. People were sitting at their house tables, having breakfast. Some shouted hello, others congratulations, some raised their hands, some nodded. Hermione smiled in return, rooted to the spot she was standing less than twenty-four hours ago.

Her eyes found the spot where he had spoken to her. His minty breath on her ear. His deep voice resonating in her mind. His warm palm on her lower back.

Goodbye.

Hermione turned around, her feet taking her out of the Great Hall, past the grand staircase, and out to the courtyard.

Her eyes found the bridge. She saw him again. He had his hand in Narcissa’s, his back towards her, walking away. And right then, he disapparated, not looking back once.

Hermione wished he had looked back.

Looked back once, just the once. At her.

But what would she have done if he had?

Stopped and stared. That was exactly what she had done, anyways. So what changed? Nothing.

Hermione found herself in the alcove, wondering where he was and what he was doing. He was probably at home, at Malfoy Manor, surrounded by his family.

Always the rational one, Hermione stood there rationalising and assessing her feelings. Sure, she felt something for Draco Malfoy. The least she could was admit that to herself. She had felt something for Draco for many years now. And just like then, she couldn’t do anything about her feelings, even if a small part of her really wanted to.

Hermione looked over her options.

One, he wasn’t here. That was evident enough.

Two, she had no idea how he felt about her. Draco never implied he felt something more than thinly veiled disgust, probably pushing it to friendship during the later years at Hogwarts. He had glanced at her for a brief second, before he was beckoned onto the side of evil. That’s all she had. Memories of when they were at school together, and a brief eye lock. He never led her to believe that there could ever be more.

And, three, even if her feelings were reciprocated – it was a big if, and Hermione knew this – if he did feel the same about her, in their world, they could never be together.

So that was that. Those were the options.

Hermione was going to revert back to the very first strategy she had ever made, and forget everything Draco Malfoy related. Sure, it was going to be difficult, she didn’t doubt that for a second. But she had all the time in the world now, she was going to keep trying until she had completely forgotten about him.

She couldn’t try having something with Ron, like she previously had. Hermione now realised how futile that was. No matter how much she would have tried, she never would’ve been truly happy with Ron. Therefore, she couldn’t lead her friend any more than she already had.

What was the plan?

Distraction. And saying goodbye to their memories.

Goodbye.

She had already said her goodbye to the memory of him in the Great Hall. Now she had said goodbye to her last memory of him on the bridge. There was only one place left.

“Hermione? Is that you?”

Dean Thomas was making his way towards her.

“I thought it was you” he said, stepping into the alcove with her. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed some fresh air and a moment to myself.”

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

“Celebrating?”

“Yeah” Dean nodded. “We won the war, Hermione.”

Of course, thought Hermione, what else was there to celebrate. She smiled faintly at him, “Yes, celebrating. It still feels so surreal … hasn’t fully sunk in yet.”

“You’re right there. Where’s Harry and Ron?” he looked around, like they would materialise as soon as they were mentioned.

“Back at the Burrow.”

“So why are you here then?”

“I wanted to help out with the school.”

“You should’ve taken a few days off.”

Hermione shrugged. “The thought of sitting still unnerved me.”

Dean laughed. “That’s the Hermione I know. I guess I’ll see you later then?”

Hermione nodded, watching Dean heading towards Hagrid’s hut. 

After one last glance at the bridge, Hermione headed back into the school. She climbed up the stairs and stopped once she arrived at the library – the last place to say her goodbye.

It was dark. With a flick of her wrist, the drapes were pulled back. Another flick and the candles burned brightly, casting shadows everywhere. There were many windows missing, some shattered completely, some just hanging loosely on the hinges. Books were strewn over the floor, some in good condition, some teared in two. Tables and chairs upturned and littering the library floor.

Hermione felt a chilly breeze from within the library, no doubt a hole in the wall somewhere. She would look at it later, she had a goodbye to say first.

Like millions of times she had done before, her feet automatically carried her over to the hidden restriction section of the library. She turned the corner and stopped. At the end of the isle was a long dark mahogany table with black leather sofas.

Their table and sofas.

She was surprised to see this section still intact, considering the rest of the library was a mess.

Hermione found the restriction section during her first year at Hogwarts. She clearly remembered researching Nicolas Flamel and his creation the Philosopher’s Stone. She found herself back again, every year they decided to do something dangerous. At some point, she began meeting Draco here, under the protection of a Disillusionment charm.

During their second year, Hermione was researching incantations and spells to help their outer appearance. She had decided to go with Polyjuice potion, even though it took a month to brew. They wanted to get into the Slytherin common room to question Draco. On her part, that didn’t go well at all, but she did remember reading about the Disillusionment charm.

It disguised the target to its surroundings. It wasn’t able to make one completely invisible, but had much of a chameleon affect, where one became the same colour and texture of its environment. The caster would flick his or her wand at the target, after a white light, you were invisible to the naked eye.

Hermione had left the book opened when she nipped to the loo. And, sneaky young Draco rushed to where she sat, to read what Hermione Granger had been reading. Their ‘friendship’ was uncanny and one which would be frowned up, not to mention gossiped about. But, the young wizards realised they preferred each other’s company, when compared to reading alone.

Draco tried the charm on her first, always the gentleman he was. And, although he could tell where she was when she moved sharply, she had blended perfectly to the bookshelf behind her. She had then returned the favour on him.

So that’s how their friendship – if she could call it that – blossomed, during studying together, invisible to onlookers. Until … they both avoided the library, and then each other completely.

Hermione’s breath lodged in her throat.

There was someone else in the library, in their restrictions section.

A woman.

She was humming quietly to herself, her fingers skimming across the spine of books.

Even though she had her back towards Hermione, she recognised her instantly. She’d never forget expensive looking black robes, her immaculate black hair, intertwined with the blonde.

Narcissa Malfoy.

Hermione had her wand raised in the blink of an eye.

Narcissa Malfoy felt a prickling sensation on the back of her head. There was someone else in the library, and by her assessment, this person was standing right behind her. She stopped humming, her hand fell from the books, slowly creeping under her robes for her wand. Narcissa spun around, aiming her wand.

Both witches glared at each other, their wand arms poised and ready.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

Narcissa lowered her wand. “Miss Granger” she said with a smile.

Hermione didn’t lower her wand, nor did she smile in return. She repeated her question.

“To help, of course” Narcissa replied, clutching a book in her left hand.

Hermione frowned; her wand still raised. “Why would anyone ask you for help?”

“Well, why not, Miss Granger?”

“Other than the fact that you’re Narcissa Malfoy?” Hermione said, her hand tightening around her wand, “can you even be trusted?”

“Well, seeing as its just the two of us, why don’t you honour us by answering your own question.”

“No. You can’t be trusted” she spat out. “Surely you’re here to steal something.” Hermione glanced down at the book she was clutching.

It had a matte black cover, an intricate green and silvery design all over it. Hermione didn’t have to open the book to know it was full of dark spells and magic. She could practically feel the darkness throbbing off it.

Narcissa watched Hermione assess the book. She clutched it closer to herself, hiding it behind one of her cloaks. The last thing she wanted was the younger witch’s shrewd eyes lingering far too long on the book.

“You may not have noticed, Miss Granger, but we deferred.” Narcissa said, her face deathly pale. “McGonagall personally asked me to offer a helping hand with the rebuilding of Hogwarts.”

Hermione watched Narcissa for a few minutes, before she lowered her wand. She tucked it into her back pocket, before rubbing her face out of frustration. She needed to let her own prejudices go – the war was over.

Hermione cleared her throat. “You’re right. I’m so-”

Narcissa raised her hand, “No need to apologise, Miss Granger, I don’t blame you for your hostility. Although the Dark Lord is dead, the war is still not over for some. We only have ourselves to blame. It’s time we start building those bridges we so happily destroyed.”

Hermione nodded, feeling ashamed for her reaction.

She glanced to the right and noticed their table again. They would spend evenings and nights, reading away, not saying a single word to each other, just finding comfort that the other was there.

Hermione felt a burning gaze on the side of her head. She teared her eyes off the table to find Narcissa staring at her, intently. Hermione felt like the older was scrutinising her for something. With a sharp nod in her direction, she turned around, trying to pretend to look for a book.

Questions erupted in her head. Narcissa had said ‘we deferred’. Who was we? Did she mean her and the other Death Eaters, her and Draco, or her and Lucius? Or all of them? 

Hermione remembered seeing Draco standing on their side, so he had deferred long before Narcissa had, she also remembered Narcissa coaxing her son over to her side. But what about Lucius? The last time she saw him up close, he appeared to be tethering on the edge of sanity and insanity. Even with his mind broken with the amount of times he had been tortured, Hermione could definitely say he wasn’t the kind to defer. Lucius Malfoy was the kind of person who would rather die, than defer.

So who was we?

When had Narcissa’s allegiance changed, Hermione wondered? Did she realise she was wrong, or because life in Azkaban was not made for a woman like her? Did she defer because she wanted to, or because she felt compelled to as she had no other choice?

Questions, questions, questions, Hermione thought.

But there was another lingering question that was burning on the tip of her tongue. Before she could realise what she was doing, she turned around and said, “How’s Draco?”

To her surprise, Narcissa had asked the same question.

Hermione was the first to speak. “Why would you ask me that? Why would I know anything about your son?”

Narcissa frowned. “Why is it so surprising that I asked you about my son?”

“We hated each other. The moment Malfoy and I met, we hated each other.”

Narcissa smiled faintly, almost like she was expecting Hermione to say those exact same words. “Is that why you two would sit there-” she pointed at the table, “-all night long, reading?”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Is that why” Narcissa continued, “You two, children, figured out the Disillusionment charm and casted it upon yourself, so no one could catch you together?”

Hermione’s heart pounded in her ears.

“Is that why, yesterday, the two of you were looking at each like you both wished things were different?”

All Hermione can say is, “How?”

“I saw Draco’s memories” she smiled softly. “I saw glimpses of you, the unique relationship the both of you shared – secretive.”

Hermione crossed her arms over chest. “It was hardly a relationship. We were just civil with each other when no one was around.”

“But if you had the chance, Miss Granger, you would grasp it with both hands, wouldn’t you?”

“Seeing as you’re extremely talkative today, Mrs Malfoy” Hermione said. “Why did you ask me about Draco? You don’t know where he is?”

Narcissa’s face fell. “He’s been missing since yesterday.”

“Why would Draco just disappear when everything is finally okay?” Hermione asked.

Narcissa smiled sadly to herself. “Because the war isn’t over for him.”

The war isn’t over for him.

The war wasn’t for her, either.

Hermione’s heart flls to the pit of her stomach, but her features remained controlled and nonchalant. She shrugged, “He’s old enough to know what he’s doing.”

“He’s just a boy. He’s made many mistakes in the past, but-”

“He’ll be back before you know it” Hermione reassured the mourning mother.

Mentally, Hermione calculated who she can approach to ask about Draco’s whereabouts. Surely his Slytherin friends should know.

Narcissa shook her head adamantly. “Something seemed definite about Draco, like … we may never see him again.”

“We?”

Narcissa nodded.

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to control her emotions. “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this. What can I possibly do-“

“You can help me find him. You’ll help me won’t you, Miss Granger?”

“Mrs Malfoy” Hermione started, her voice controlled. “I can see you’re very worried, and I understand that. But it’s like what I said earlier, Draco and I hated each other, we never saw eye to eye. I’m the last person to know where to look for him.”

“But you’re the brightest witch of your time!”

“If you could just-”

“Is this about the youngest Weasley boy?” Narcissa asked.

“Ron?”

“I saw you – the both of you, together.”

“Ron and I-”

Narcissa pulled out her wand. With a flick she conjured a piece of parchment and a quill. Leaning over the table, she scribbled something down. Once she was done, she pushed it towards Hermione.

“Once you’re ready to accept whatever is in your heart for my son, please come meet me at this place.”

Hermione glanced down at the paper. Narcissa had given her an address. But to where? Hermione didn’t recognise the location.

“People grow close to each other when death is hanging over them” Narcissa said.

Hermione looked up at her.

“But once the imminent threat of death is removed from the equation, people realise there was nothing but desperation between the two – definitely not love.” She gave Hermione a knowing look. With a swish of her cloak, she leaves the library, the black book still in her hand.

\---

As soon as Hermione entered the kitchen, Ron stood up. He engulfed her in a hug and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. Hermione moved her face just in time, his lips touching her cheek.

“Where were you?” he asked, looking slightly dejected.

“I was Hogwarts. I left a note.”

“Oh, dear” Mrs Weasley added. “I must’ve thrown it away.”

“Its okay, mum” Ron said before turning towards Hermione. “Can we go for a walk?”

“I’m sorry, Ron, I’m really tired. I rather just go to bed.” She stepped away from him.

“But dinner, Hermione?” asked Mrs Weasley.

“I had it at Hogwarts” she smiled, before heading upstairs.

Half an hour later, she’s finally comfortable in bed. A soft knock on the door has her sitting up, wondering who it is.

Mrs Weasley entered, seating herself on the end of the bed. “Can I ask you something, dear?”

Hermione nodded, an uneasy feeling growing in her stomach.

“Is everything okay between you and Ron?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley. Nothing has changed for me.”

“But you don’t see him like he sees you?”

“Well – I – um …” Hermione stumbled over her words. “It’s more complicated than just a yes or no answer.”

“There’s someone else who has captured your heart?”

“Again, Mrs Weasley, it’s more complicated than just a yes or no answer.”

“Because you’re not sure how he feels about you?”

Hermione nodded. There was no point in hiding it anymore. At some point she had to speak the truth. Upon seeing the sad look on Mrs Weasley’s face, Hermione rushed out, “I don’t deny there was one something between Ron and I. it’s not like he imagined everything by himself. I was fully part of that – that moment.”

“So what changed, dear?”

“Yesterday …” Hermione said, not knowing how to put her thoughts into words. How could she tell Mrs Weasley about yesterday without mentioning Draco’s name?

“It’s Draco, isn’t it?”

Hermione glanced up, her eyes wide.

“I saw the pain on your face when his parents called out his name. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named embraced him, you looked like you could kill him yourself.”

Hermione looked down, feeling ashamed.

“He seems like a good boy … misguided, but a good boy” Mrs Weasley said.

“But Ron” Hermione said, still looking down. “What am I-”

“Sometimes under the circumstances of war, dear, you hold onto anything and anyone that makes you feel safe and happy. Because, you know at some it can all be over – you can live, or you can die. In a war, you always prepare for the worst. As much as it hurts me to admit, I believe you both did that. You realised because you’ve accepted we’re safe now. Ron … He’ll come around at some point.”

“That’s rather strange” Hermione muttered to herself.

“What is, dear?”

“Narcissa Malfoy said the same thing too.”

Mrs Weasley smiled. “Mum’s know best” she said.

Hermione sighed loudly. “But how do I know this all is worth it? I mean we hated each other.”

“Hermione, dear, it’s about time you start accepting the truth. You stopped hating Draco a long time ago.”

“Mrs Weasley-”

“A kiss is just a kiss, until you find the one you love. A hug is just a hug, until you find the one you’re always thinking of. A dream is just a dream, until it comes true. And, love is just a word, until the day you meet the one.”

Mrs Weasley patted Hermione on the knee, before saying goodnight and leaving.

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely comments everyone left under the last chapter. It really made my week to have my work appreciated like this. I’ve started a new job, and its really fast paced and intense, considering COVID and all. So unfortunately, I have no idea when I’ll be able to write chapter 3, but I’m hoping to make up for that by giving you a longer chapter 2. Bear with me please as I try and juggle everything.

Thank you once again. Hope everyone enjoys Tom’s show on veeps!

And, see you at Hogwarts.

xx


End file.
